I Stand Alone
by Coota
Summary: Sergeant "Mage" Wizall is sent to the Ulos Sector to investigate the murder of a fellow Starfighter Command OSI agent, a massive thievery ring that has infiltrated the Ulos Sector fleet, and the nightclub that ties it all together.


I Stand Alone: A 'Mage' Wizall Mystery  
  
Ah, paperwork. There's nothing quite like it in the universe, and as far as I'm concerned, noone is better at creating it than New Republic Starfighter Command. Then again, I suppose that every soldier thinks his branch of the service involves the most deskpiloting. Regardless of who actually deserves the title, I think we pretty much all hate it equally. With a universal hatred like that, you'd think it would go away whenever us grunts finally became Generals. Sadly, it just doesn't happen that way. Red tape, paperwork and forms will be a part of the military until the universe collapses in on itself. Hell, there'll probably be some grunt working in the universal scheme of things who has to fill out paperwork about that little event.  
  
I'm not complaining, though: my job involves relatively little of it, though the reports I do type out tend to be a bit complicated. You see, I work for New Republic Starfighter Command's Office of Special Investigations, the internal investigative arm of the New Republics most important military branch. Hey, allow me my prejudices, alright? I love Starfighter Command, and probably always will. Noone will ever convince me that Admiral Ackbar's tactical mind is superior to that of Wedge Antilles, whether or not it's true. It's just the way interservice rivalry works.   
  
Anyhow, in the wake of the New Republics capture of Coruscant, things got complicated for Starfighter Command. Rogue Squadron was the most famous unit in the galaxy, and that equaled recruits. More recruits equaled more fighter pilots, technicians, etc, which in turn equaled more bureaucratic chaos, as our screening process became lax in response to increased demand for pilots, techs and the various support personnel required to fight a war. That meant we had more criminals, murderers, nutcases, black marketeers and Imperial spies in our ranks than ever before. This made my job a lot more interesting, because I was almost always on assignment. New Republic Intelligence didn't have time to deal with internal Starifighter Command issues, so we handled them ourselves. I liked it that way. At that time you knew that you were the one thing keeping the entire organization from collapsing in on itself. You were the New Republic. As far as I was concerned, I was the last line of defense after morals, ethics and duty had failed.  
  
The paperwork was from a case I'd been working out in the contested regions. There'd been an accident aboard the 3rd Fleet's support carrier, and it was feared that the Imperials had worked a saboteur aboard. It had turned out to be something a little less obvious, and a little bit more insidious. But that's another story, and it still hasn't been declassified. I just think that Cracken is dragging his heels about declassification because the NRI had been chasing their tails looking for Imperials when the problem had actually been... well, like I said, the situation was classified. Needless to say, it had generated quite a few forms for me to fill out. Every time you're working an investigation and a blaster fight breaks out, you have to fill out a form. And if you kill someone... let's just say that you try to avoid killing people just because of the red tape you're looking at when you get back to base.  
  
I had just finished the first of many documents to be filled in triplicate when my com unit went off. That would be Major Treyers, a former Sector Ranger who knew quite a bit about flying and investigation. Starfighter Command insisted on having a few men like him in positions of power within OSI to keep people who had never set foot in a starfighter from taking over entirely. Granted, I'd never flown the things, but I was a former tech crewman from the Alliance days. The NRSC didn't mind non-pilots as long as you had some expertise in the area of actual combat: they just didn't want any professional desk pilots ending up in charge. Treyers did a pretty good job of making sure that standard was met. You didn't get promoted in his department unless you had some field experience. And there was plenty of that to be had in those days.   
  
Due to long years shouting at criminals to cease resisting arrest, Treyer's voice was less than soothing. "Sergeant Wizall! My office, now!" came the gruff bark over my com unit.  
  
I grinned slightly, glad to be free of my work for even a few minutes, and jumped out of my chair. I moved with a sense of purpose, steeling myself for whatever Treyers had to say, good or bad. Once I reached his door I went through the usual procedures, entering, saluting and reporting as ordered. Even with hardened veterans of the Rebellion, procedure is king. I'm not quite sure what the military would be without it.  
  
"What's up, Cap?" I questioned after taking an offered seat in front of Treyers desk  
.  
"Don't call me that, Mage. This isn't a holofilm and you're not the lone wolf Sector Ranger," Treyers sighed, referring to me by my nickname. I guess it's a privilege of rank.   
  
I just grinned and replied, "Last time I checked, you at least got partners back with the Sector Rangers. They didn't send out lone Rangers to deal with situations that normally take an army of NRI agents."  
  
"I suppose I understand the sentiment. But we both know that you're a professional, so try and cut the pat banter. I swear, detective holofilms ruin the best operatives."  
  
I grinned widely at that. Treyers was well known to love older detective holofilms, especially the tragic ones where the hero was seduced and destroyed by some alien femme fatale. No amount of persuading could convince him that this was just anti-alien propaganda on the part of the Empire, and not the best holocinema ever created. He at least had enough of a sense of humor to take the ribbing in stride, and even make a couple jokes about it himself.  
  
"We've got a problem out in the Outer Rim, Ulos Sector. We've been losing equipment at an alarming rate to black marketers in the area, and it speaks to a wide ranging network of informants and thieves in our own forces."  
  
"Sounds about like the normal routine," I observed, "Grab one guy, then he recruits the rest."  
  
"That's what we thought, until about a week ago. We had a man down there, Sergeant Rath "Highlight" Kian, and he traced everything back to the capital planet of the sector, Miathar'ra. What's more, he found one other common denominator: a club called Starlight Paradise. The place is huge, so he decided to go through with some routine questioning and observation, keeping a low cover."  
  
"Am I going down to help him with the investigation, cover more ground?" I asked.  
  
"No," Treyers shook his head wearily, "You're going down to find out who murdered him. His body turned up yesterday. I want you on the next transport to Miathar'ra. You'll be based out of Starfighter Command HQ there, but I think you'll be doing most of your work at the Starlight Paradise. Kian came to close to something there: your job is to find out what it was. Go in as quiet as possible, and remember that we have no jurisdiction outside of Starfighter Command personnel. You kill a civilian, even a guilty civilian, and we run into problems."  
  
"I've done this a couple times before now, Captain," I reminded him, though I had been visibly sobered by the news of Kian's death. I had only known him in passing, but he'd been a good investigator. The situation would have to be bad before he got in too deep.  
  
"That's why I'm sending you. I think you might be the one man subtle enough to figure out what went down there without causing a major incident. Once you're ready to make an arrest, cooperate with the locals, or call in the NRI if the locals give you trouble, but until then, lay low. The files, your ticket and itinerary have already been transferred to your dataconsole. Pick them up on the way out."  
  
With that, the meeting was over, and I was on my way to Miathar'ra, an unimportant capital city to an unimportant sector in the middle of nowhere. That was what Kian had probably thought. I knew that something in that unimportant place was worth killing for. It was my job to unmask that secret before anyone had a chance to kill again. After all, once blood starts running through the gutter, it's hard to stop the flow.  
  
---------------  
  
It only took a few days to reach Miathar'ra, as the New Republic had been willing to spring for one of the fastest, most direct starliners heading out of Coruscant. I had barely enough time to get drunk and then sober back up again before we reached our destination. I spent the rest of the trip contemplating what had happened at the Starlight, reading over Kian's notes and reports. There were some names, but nothing really connected with Starfighter Command. The main name seemed to be that of a nightclub singer at the Starlight, a woman by the name of Melina Darksun. As far as I could tell, Kian believed she knew something, and that she wanted to talk. It might have been nothing, but even in his notes it seemed like something about the woman had affected Sergeant Kian. It was worth checking out.  
  
The fact that Kian's primary source had nothing to do with starfighters wasn't the only thing peculiar about the case. Everything kept disappearing into the Starlight. Every time he thought he had found a lead, it went astray when he pursued it onto the base. Every technician, every pilot, every MP, every man and woman who could even be remotely suspected came up almost completely clean. Sure, a few things didn't match here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. If it hadn't been for one success in Kian's investigation, I would have been inclined to believe that he'd been chasing vapor trails at the Starlight. While he couldn't trace anything backward, he had managed to tail a notorious fence out of the Starlight to a storage facility stacked with New Republic goods. He had called in the locals the next day and the equipment had been recovered, but the fence was dead before they even got near the Rodian's apartment.  
  
Every reliable lead disappearing into vacuum, ignorant sources, the lack of a solid link to someone in Starfighter Command, it all pointed nowhere. Kian had investigated all the obvious possibilities: he'd examined every nook and cranny of our base at Miathar'ra, looking for evidence implicating a commander, a non-com, or even the lowest enlisted man. Every time, he had come up with a few coincidences, but nothing solid. All the crimes he did find were small in nature, involving a few power cells or a blaster here and there, or some other insignificant item. He didn't even bother to report them, as the offenders would have only been docked pay and put on probation, at worst. Also, if he had started arresting every being who committed even the smallest crime, he would tip off whoever the ring leader was. Standard operating procedure has always been to let the small fish go, and lead you to the big fish. The only problem was that it didn't seem like there were any big fish in this pond.   
  
I knew that it was a just a screen though; Kian had known it was just a screen. New Republic personnel were committing the crimes, even if they weren't occurring at that particular base. I just had to find the link, between the Starlight Paradise and the crimes. I was sure there had to be one, or else Kian would still be alive.   
  
-----------  
  
I arrived at the base on schedule, an amazing feat these days. It sometimes seemed that with all the warlords, pirates and random acts of nature, no starliners ever make it to their destination on time, but for once luck was on my side. Within an hour of arriving, I had reported in to the base commander, found my quarters and unpacked. I didn't change out of my uniform immediately, as I was in a hurry to get something to eat. I've never been a fan of starliner food, and preferred the hardy institutional stuff they serve you at a mess hall. As far as food goes, I probably would have made a good Imperial. I joined a group of non-coms while I ate, made a few simple inquiries, and then headed back to my room. I needed a quick jolt in the refresher and a change of clothes before I began checking out the Starlight.  
  
The good thing about working with OSI is that you're allowed to wear civilian dress while on duty: in fact, you're encouraged to in some situations, as blending in with the people you're investigating is key. As far as I knew, I'd be spending most of my time at the club, so I dressed to blend in. From what I had gathered from soldiers at the base mess hall, the place was pretty casual: no suits, just comfortable clothing. I threw on some comfortable dress slacks and a white undershirt, then strapped on my shoulder holster, sliding my DL-44 into its appointed place. After tightening the holster a bit to minimize its presence, I threw on a light tropical pattern over shirt that an old girlfriend had bought me. She had been a SpecForce Marine, and picked up the strangest damn things when she was on leave... but, I won't get into that. Needless to say, I don't dress down a lot. The few bars and clubs I usually frequent require at least a little dressing up. The Starlight sounded like it was for the younger crowd though, so I'd have to deal.  
  
I hopped a military transport heading into town, packed to the gills with young men and women headed to the same place as I was. Their clothing wasn't much better matched than mine was: the military doesn't lend itself too much in the way of fashion. Though the female enlistees and officers always manage to come away looking good: maybe it's just instinct for them. I blended in perfectly, looking like just another non-com out for a night on the town.   
  
The transport arrived at the Starlight within minutes, pulling up to the entrance and disgorging its occupants onto the street. The pilot, a gruff looking senior non-com, barked out the curfew time, and then sped away. I was surprised there was no line into the club, even though a tough looking Herglic bouncer was keeping an eye on the incoming traffic. I had figured that a popular place like this would have a line halfway across the block, no matter what time you showed up. The building didn't look nearly big enough to match Treyer's and Kian's descriptions of it. I paid the bouncer the hefty cover charge and continued through the place's oversized double doors.  
  
As I entered, I discovered why this would not be a problem. The place was huge, and it looked as if no matter how many people entered, it would never be entirely full. As far as I could tell, it was the size of a Star Destroyer, though it went down instead of up. The level I was on looked down on fifteen other levels from a balcony ringed with transparisteel. Every one was packed with beings of all types, all of them dancing to the pulsing beat of a heavy industrial rhythm of some type. It was surprisingly melodic for all that, even if it sounded like someone with a throat condition was belting out the lyrics.   
  
I stepped up to the bar on the first level and purchased a drink, if only for appearances sake. I needed to be alert in a place like this, but I also needed to look like a paying customer. Too many detectives looks and smell like cops, which is why they get found out and killed. I knew enough to become the person I was trying to be: a tired New Republic technician with a paycheck to spend. I doubted that any technician out by himself would be in the mood to dance, so I just started wandering the place, from level to level. I wanted to spend the first hour just observing, but I figured that would be a little suspicious, especially when I didn't keep the drinks coming. I was running through my options, sitting at a booth on the seventh level, when the situation solved itself, in a way.  
  
She was tall, lithe and built perfectly. Her green-gray eyes shimmered, her smile pierced me like a searchlight through mist. The dress she wore accented her curves without showing off too much skin, while her hair was cut just short enough to be manageable, but in an intriguing style that somehow elevated from her left shoulder to her right, in a diagonal cut. Pretty close to the stereotypical club girl, I figured, but at the same time knew that assessment fell a thousand meters short of describing her.   
  
Something was wrong here, and something was right. I had a feeling that whatever was up, things were going to start getting more interesting from this point on. I looked up from my drink and grinned slightly, "Anything I can help you with?"  
  
She smiled back, dazzling, as I expected. Girls like that, you know them and don't know them all at the same time. "You could dance with me, soldier boy, if that doesn't interrupt your drinking time."  
  
For some reason I knew she wasn't a grifter, but she wasn't just a girl out for a good time, either. I shrugged, "I'm not much of a dancer. Hell, I'm just absorbing this place; just got to this planet, and not quite sure what to make of it."  
  
She smiled again, as if that was the most amusing thing she'd ever heard, and I was the most amusing man she'd ever met. It was impressive. Sometimes I wish I could have caught it on holocamera. Not that I would have had the presence of mind to activate it: I'm pretty good at what I do, but I wouldn't be a man if a girl like that didn't keep my attention. "I could show you around then. We'll work up to dancing. Now just get up, soldier," she replied, pulling me from my seat. I left the drink behind; I had a feeling she'd be intoxicating enough to make up for the lack of alcohol.  
  
"So, do you meet all your friends this way? Hijacking soldiers who're just trying to relax?" I asked as we finally came to a stop at the balcony over looking the central dance area.   
  
"More often than you'd think: you know, whenever feel like seducing young men to their dooms."  
  
"Young?" I chuckled, "You got the wrong guy, sweetheart."  
  
"Well, maybe I got tired of seducing the young ones. So, what do you want to know about this place?"  
  
"How about you tell me when they'll play music that isn't going to give me a migraine?"  
  
"Not a fan of heavy metal?"  
  
"Not when a Trandoshan is singing it. Do these people even know what the lyrics mean?"  
  
"Probably not. I doubt they'd care if they did: it's just something to dance to."  
  
"I guess I just prefer the voice of a woman whose voice registers at the same level as my eardrums. She doesn't have to be human, just as long as the song doesn't consist of growls and screams."  
  
"You know anything about music?" the girl asked, smiling, leaning against the balcony glass.  
  
"I know enough to know that whoever runs this place doesn't know a thing: this is Trandoshan heavy industrial from before the Battle of Endor. Five years old."  
  
The girl grinned widely, "Jivasi wouldn't like to hear that; he thinks of himself an authority when it comes to music. He's hired all the best acts in the sector. And there's a reason that this is playing: it's classic night."  
  
"That'd explain it, but I'm not a big fan of this stuff. I prefer techno ballads: Mairi Gish is a personal favorite. Whenever she gets around to recording an album, it's usually a masterpiece."  
  
"Wow, I didn't think anyone else even knew about her," the girl gasped, "Have you heard Love at First Sight yet?"  
  
I grinned, "Yeah; the Coruscanti remix is pretty impressive, too."  
  
"I prefer the Nar Shaddan one, myself. I think it gives an oppressive air, that kind of juxtaposes with the upbeat themes."  
  
"You know your stuff," I admitted, "With all the music bouncing around the galaxy, I'm surprised any two people can agree on music."  
  
"Maybe it's fate, or the Force pushing us together," she suggested playfully.  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"Not exactly eloquent, are you?"  
  
"If I was eloquent, I would've joined the diplomatic corps. As it is, eloquence doesn't seem to get you far in the world. It won't do that guy much good," I motioned to a loud alien at the bar, who was being closed in on by a couple of pretty obvious goons.  
  
"Maybe if he was eloquent, he could talk his way out of that situation," the girl suggested.  
  
"I doubt it," I replied, "Those guys look like professionals. You seem to know the place; they work for the boss, or some crime lord who's financing it?"  
  
"They're one and the same around here: Jivasi has a corner on illegal goods in the sector. He used those credits to finance this place."  
  
I raised a brow, "You seem to know a lot for just your standard party girl."  
  
"Maybe I'm not your standard party girl," her eyes sparkled enigmatically, "But you'll have to find out for yourself. I have something I have to do. I hope I'll see you soon, soldier boy."  
  
With that, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd. At least I had some names now, though. Scanning the crowd, it was easy to pick out the hustlers, the goons, the grifters and the dealers of various sorts and separate them from the rest of the crowd. Of course, the ones I spotted were just the ones who were either too incompetent to blend in, or the ones powerful enough to not care. As it was, I figured I might as well take care of this the quick way: Kian had been subtle, and that hadn't exactly worked for him. Subtlety just isn't appreciated by most of the criminals these days. So why bother, I figure?  
  
I waited for a few moments, and then picked my mark, a heavy set human with crooked teeth and a suitcase full of illicit substances. He looked tough, but most of them do, and it doesn't matter how tough they are if you know what you're doing. I walked up to him, smiled slightly, and grabbed him by his balls before he had a moment to react.  
  
Within a few seconds, we were together in a refresher room placed in one of the many service corridors that led from each of the main levels. He probably didn't want to cooperate, but the blaster I had under his chin would solve that problem. This wasn't exactly in the textbook, but you can't operate strictly by the book. You're alone out there, with noone backing you up: you operate by the book, and you die. Of course, your every decision counts for a lot more in a situation like this: if I didn't get this case solved quick, and kept up a pattern like this, every criminal on the planet would be gunning for me inside of five days.  
  
"You work for Jivasi, or are you a freelancer?" I asked calmly after patting him down and disarming him.  
  
"Frag off," he replied, unwisely.  
  
I say unwisely, because a refresher room is perfect for the innovating interrogator. I grabbed him by his long, well groomed hair and dragged him to one of the waste disposal units. It was clogged, like every third waste disposal unit in every refresher across the galaxy. That was perfect for my purposes, as every bit of sludge in there would make the man slightly more cooperative. As he saw what I had planned for him, he tried to struggle, but his heart just wasn't in it after my initial greeting. A quick knee to the ribs, and he was doubled over; from there, it only took an application of pressure to place his head squarely in the waste disposal unit's water reserve. A water reserve that had only contained the sludge of a hundred beings for weeks, as the club's plumbers took care of more pressing matters.  
After a few moments, I pulled his head back out and smiled again, "Now, I just want some information, and I don't have the time to pay you for it or wheedle it out of you. If you don't answer me now, I'm going to dunk you a couple of times, and then if you still don't answer, I'm going to kill you and then find someone more useful. If you answer quick, I let you go and you can tattle to whoever you're working for. Got it?"  
He nodded, his face pale.   
  
"Good!" I exclaimed happily, "That means our relationship is going to work out just fine. Now, are you working for Jivasi, some boss or are you a freelancer?"  
  
"I work for a transporter named Corsode, a Bith out of the Kli'mar system," the man coughed out.  
  
"I was under the impression that the black market around here was run by Jivasi."  
  
"Where'd you get your information, the Sarlacc pit? Jivasi's alright, and he's clean: He lets us work here, we leave him alone!" my unwilling informant replied, almost laughing in my face..  
  
""I've heard differently. I hear he's the only game in town, everyone else works for him," I pointed out.  
  
"Your heard wrong, blaster brains. Sure, there's someone running everything, but it ain't Jivasi. Whoever it is keeps their head down."  
  
"So you don't know."  
  
"Even if I did...," he began.  
  
"You wouldn't tell me. When you get out on bail, tell Corsode I have something to sell. Tell him I'll only speak to the person running things. The name's Garington, got it?" I ordered more than asked, and then shot him at close range. Set for stun, the blast would leave him out for a few hours. I'd given him the name of the identity I was using at the moment, a humble New Republic tech with access to expensive equipment. Any checks the criminals might do would turn up my face and Garington's made up service history. OSI makes sure we're prepared for any eventuality, and always has a healthy supply of backup identities.  
  
I then proceeded to make a quick call to the local law enforcement and let them know that they had a spice seller and plenty of evidence waiting for them in the refresher on the seventh level of the Starlight, then reemerged into the club so I could blend in before the locals showed up.   
  
I found that the place had changed noticeably in tone and volume; the music had gone down, the crowd was growing quiet. It seemed like all their attention was focused on the central area of the club, as well as various vidscreens, all showing the empty performance space I had noticed earlier. It was no longer empty, having been filled with various instruments and band members, though the lead singer position was vacant. Whoever the singer was, the people surrounding me couldn't wait. Maybe the girl had been right, and this place did have some redeeming values. Then again, if the crowd had loved the Trandoshan metal from earlier, maybe I didn't want to hear this singer.  
  
I decided to make my way down to the main floor, where there were some tables surrounding the main dance floor. I needed to sit down, and I wanted to get a good look at this singer. As I traversed the floors, I heard a man's voice projected on the hidden loudspeakers that seemed to pervade the place.  
  
"I'm glad you all could make it out tonight for this, our weekly live performance by Melina Darksun, our resident songstress!"  
  
Shouts and screams accompanied this announcement, the noise rolling over the club like an ion storm. That gave me the idea that whoever this Melina was, the crowd was hanging around for her performance, Trandoshan Death Metal or not. I had a feeling that it was Jivasi making the announcement, and that this singer was his main meal ticket. Club owners don't usually announce singers, no matter how good they are. Club owners stay in the background and look impressive. They occasionally come out to mingle with the richer club goers, follow that up by making sure there isn't too much criminal activity in their place, and then go back to their well-appointed personal office.   
  
The voice continued as I reached the bottom level, mentioning Melina's many credentials and awards, her happiness to be here, and how proud she was of the size of the crowd. I thought his speaking could use a little work, but once I reached the bottom level I gave him a ten for presentation. He was speaking through holo, and the holo wasn't even of him: it was a huge representation of some ancient serpent slowly winding its way around a huge gemstone.   
  
I looked around for a table, and saw only one empty, with a reserved plaque on it. I was just about to give up and look for an empty wall to lean on when a club worker serving the tables walked up to me, glancing at a datacard in his hand. I figured a camera had caught me in the refresher with that spice peddler, and that I was about to be ejected, so I was a little surprised when he smiled and said he'd been waiting for me.  
  
"Me?" I asked, "You sure you don't have the wrong guy?"  
  
"Oh, no. I was told that a man of your description was to be given the best table for the performance. Please, follow me."  
  
I shrugged, and just figured I'd been tagged as OSI from the word go. If Jivasi wanted to give me the best seat in the house in order to mock me, who was I to argue? It might be a good show. Afterall, even though we've got plenty of fake ids, and do some undercover work, we aren't exactly masters of disguise: that's what the NRI is for. We're more like Sector Rangers: we chase down bad guys, ask a lot of questions while we're looking for them, and shoot people. That's about it. I could still do my job out in the open, it would just be a little more interesting.  
  
I thanked the club worker, ordered another drink, and asked him who had gotten me the table. He just smiled enigmatically and told me that I was supposed to figure it out myself. I just shrugged again, leaned back in my chair and waited as the shouting died down and Jivasi's holo faded in anticipation of the singers arrival.  
  
The music began a moment after I received my drink, a heavy, dark melody that overwhelmed the entire room even as the lights faded slightly to increase the effect of the room. Whatever Jivasi lacked, he more than made up for in his presentation. I watched the stage, trying to remain skeptical, but almost as captivated as the rest of the audience.   
  
Lights appeared on the stage, illuminating a path to some back room, as the heavy melody continued to play. A strong beat pervaded, somehow mixing with the slow, dark music. If anyone had really wanted to they, could have danced to this opening: as it was, most of the standing audience just swayed in place.   
  
Then she appeared, and if I hadn't been a zealot for the New Republic's cause(not to mention an Alliance veteran), I would have immediately stopped caring about Kian, the mission and the New Republic in general. If that woman had been the reason for the recent thefts, I could understand completely. She was Wroonian, with a blue complexion in her skin and hair, but her eyes carried a seriousness I'd never seen in any Wroonian before. The race was known for it's flightiness, and general carefree attitude. With those eyes, I couldn't imagine the woman ever being carefree in her life. But I guess that could have been staging. And that was just her looks.  
  
The song was something else entirely. It began in perfect tune with the opening music, but somehow seemed in contrast: it was soft while the music was hard, liberating while the music was oppressive. She sang about love, like every singer in the galaxy, but somehow that love reminded me of my days in the Rebellion, of why I was fighting. It wasn't just romantic love she was singing about, it was a love for all things that had been oppressed by the Galactic Empire, just as her singing was being oppressed by the music. The creativity of the songstress, or at least her writers, was evident in that the lyrics didn't make any reference to such concrete things. The song was everything to everyone, and that was the meaning I took from it. I didn't really think about it at the time, but I think that while everyone in the crowd interpreted it in their own way, everyone of them felt the same overwhelming power I did. Then the tempo picked up, the music lifted in spirit, Melina flashed a brilliant smile and the entire dancefloor began shaking as the crowd began to dance again. It was beautiful. But while I appreciate art, I don't let it carry me too far from my duties. I shook out the feelings that the song had invoked and took another long sip from my drink.  
  
I must have been more affected than I thought I had been, as I was completely surprised when a female hand tapped me on the shoulder lightly. I think I recovered well, but I'll admit that my drink almost ended up in my lap. Looking up in annoyance, I saw the smiling face of the girl I'd met earlier, as pretty as ever. She couldn't compare to the woman on the stage, but I doubt any woman could have. I motioned her to sit down.  
"Isn't she wonderful?" the girl asked as the song switched to a light, upbeat song about being trapped by love. She seated herself across from me, smiling broadly.  
  
"Impressive; some of the best singing I've heard in a while," I admitted.  
  
"I'm glad you liked her; as soon as I heard you were a fan of Mairi Gish, I knew you'd love Melina. That's why I got you the table," she almost bragged.  
  
That explained the table, and meant my cover probably hadn't been blown. I feigned disinterest. "Ah, that explains it. Thanks."  
  
She looked almost angry with that. "You're not going to ask me my name, or how I got you the table?"  
  
"That's the question, isn't it? Maybe you're Jivasi's girlfriend, or his sister, or you slipped the manager a few hundred credits. It's more fun if I just speculate. If I knew, life wouldn't be nearly as interesting."  
  
She laughed, looking at me curiously, "I'm sure. I know your routine by heart, mister. It's as old as the stars."  
  
"Probably why I still use it. You get into a routine over a few hundred millennia, and you just can't break out of it."  
  
She laughed again, a musical laugh with something else in it, something I couldn't place. She wasn't faking, I knew that much, but there was still something wrong. "Alright, enough. My name's Asai Ensmith. I know, it's a silly last name, but my family made ion drives way back during the Old Republic. At least they shortened it from Enginesmith. So, now I'll admit that I'm actually curious: what's your name?"  
  
I chuckled and replied, "Garrington. Isail Garrington. And your last name's not so silly. Though I have a feeling you'd end up with a callsign like Iondrive or something if you ever joined the Starfighter Command Pilot corps."  
  
She smiled, "Fat chance of that happening; I'm a socialite and a communications major at the Sector University. I'll end up a rich, boring executive, and I won't have a bit of excitement in my life. And I'll be exceptionally happy just spending my time at clubs picking up exciting soldiers and breaking their hearts. I have no intention of joining the New Republic military."  
  
"You seem to have it all figured out," I commented.  
  
She looked angry again, "Do you not care at all?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"How I got the table, of course!"  
  
"Oh," I deadpanned, "I'd forgotten."  
  
"I have a feeling that you haven't remembered anything about any girl in over a decade, and that they all just simply love you anyhow, soldier-boy."  
  
"I didn't think it worked that way. It hasn't for me, anyhow," I replied.   
  
It was true: while I dated a few girls over the course of the years in the Rebellion and the New Republic, some seriously, some not, I'd never had an easy time with women. I figured it had mostly to do with my less than dashing good looks, plus my sometimes brutal honesty. Hell, even Wedge Antilles looks positively exciting next to me: I just look like I need a shave. As for the honesty, when you're in a job that requires you to lie half the time, you develop a kind of joy from telling the absolute truth in your personal life. Not great for relationships, though. Though I have remembered to lie whenever any girl of any species asks me how she looks in any kind of outfit whatsoever. Trust me, no matter the species, there's no difference in their response to the truth when you answer that question.  
  
She just laughed again. "Alright, I'll tell you, and you don't even have to ask. I have a feeling that having to ask questions is painful for you, or something. I'm Jivasi's niece, so I get free reign of the place. I get my pick of all you soldier-boys before anyone else gets their hands on you."  
  
"Really? And then you seduce them and get them to work for your uncle?" It was blunt enough to be a joke, whether it was true or not. I figured I might as well try a shot in the dark.  
  
She played it off easily. "Only when I really need some money for partying. Otherwise, I just seduce them for my own personal reasons."  
  
I was just about to make a suitable rebuttal when another sudden change in the tone of Melina's singing brought about a hush throughout the audience. I turned my eyes to the stage, ignoring Asai, which probably drove her insane. Not that it was really my fault: no man could have ignored the woman on that stage. Debutantes like Asai don't really stand a chance when it comes to a contest like that. After she was reasonably sure that all eyes in the club were on her, Darksun favored us all with a slight smile, and then opened her mouth.   
  
"Thank you for your warm reception... tonight I've got something a little different to offer, something I've been working on for a few weeks. Something for a special man in the audience," Darksun announced, her eyes sparkling.  
  
Her speech was just as lilting as her singing; I grinned, thinking that whoever that man was, he was a lucky son of a gundark. You can imagine my surprise when the spotlight highlighted me. I can't say that Asai was exceptionally happy either, from the huffy look on her face. Two girls in one night: I hadn't had this much attention since my year with SpecForce Wilderness and that almost all female strike team.   
  
I smiled in apology to Asai, and then drew my eyes back to the stage. It was entirely possible that Kian had told her that another OSI agent might drop by if he was rubbed out. After all, it would be a little silly to assume that all this had something to do with my stunning good looks, even if it would be good for my ego. In that case, there was a good chance that Darksun knew what to look for, and that gave me a little bit of hope. Maybe Kian had suggested this as a contact medium. It was a little public, but better than nothing.   
  
The song she began was a remixed version of "Either it's love or it isn't', an old favorite from the Republic days. The old version was a melodramatic bit of fluff, but still could only be pulled off by the best songstresses. I seem to remember that Wynssa Starflare managed to pull off a pretty good rendition in the Imperial holodrama 'Death in Imperial City.' As classy of an actress as she was, she really didn't have anything on the woman in front of me. Maybe it's because I never met Starflare, and Darksun was right in front of me. Though it seems like every actress and singers name has something to do with stars these days. It's probably psychological or something.  
  
The lyrics had been changed ever so slightly, the beat increased a bit, the mood a stark contrast of light and dark. It felt like if the subject of the song rejected love, only darkness would follow, while in the original it had never seemed to matter one way or the other. Needless to say, that breathy voice pulled it off perfectly, carrying every note with a sense of loss or hope as the situation demanded.   
  
"She seems to like you," Asai muttered.  
  
I just grunted, ignored her and paid attention to the act. This was made easier since said act was making its way towards my table, in all its breathy, long legged glory. I knew there had to be a reason for all this, so I just played along, leaning back and watching. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, but I kept aware. Though that got a little harder as Darksun got closer, each step creating a pathway through the crowd. If I hadn't known better, I would've sworn she was using some kind of mind control to move the crowd like that; her movement towards me was as fluid as a Chandrilan waterfall.   
  
At the climax of the song, the verse about making a decision, about having to figure out whether the subjects of the song are in love or not, she had arrived at my table. She was at my table now, only a few feet away from me, and she smiled that dazzling, enigmatic smile again, but not just at me. I had a feeling she knew Asai, and that the two didn't get along so well. I could always figure that out later. Right then, I was busy concentrating on Ms. Darksun. She crooned out the last two lines of the verse with care, drawing herself onto my table, leaning across, her eyes sparkling.  
  
She came within inches of me and let one of her hands drag across my cheek softly, letting a finger draw down across my chest. If I'd been anyone else, I wouldn't have noticed the data chip she dropped into my pocket. I had a feeling someone else might have noticed, but that was alright. If nothing else, I know how to keep things away from the wrong hands.   
  
Melina stood up slowly, removing herself from the table and drawing herself back to the stage as she finished the last few lines of the song. When it ended, she was back on the platform, the audience was cheering louder than ever, and Asai was burning lasers at me with her eyes. I guess women don't like having attention stolen from them. I just grinned and said, "I have no idea what that was about. Maybe I remind her of her brother or something."  
  
Asai rolled her eyes, "Sure, soldier-boy. Now that Darksun has had her hands all over you, are you ready to dance?"  
  
"I could handle that; I'm just glad you haven't slapped me yet."  
  
"The night is still young, soldier-boy," she replied, taking my offered hand as we stood up and headed to the dance floor for the next number.   
  
I figured I might be able to get something out of her, as it seemed like she was connected to this whole thing somehow. I'm not as bad a dancer as I had made out earlier, I had just been busy with other things. Now that she might be material to the investigation, it was worth developing her as a source. I just hoped she wouldn't try complicating matters. I don't fall in love easily, especially around people who might very well be trying to kill me. If she was the type who fell for every tall dark stranger in a uniform, I was going to have some problems.  
  
----------  
  
I finally got away from Asai Ensmith about two hours later, by which time the night had advanced far past what I had expected. It was about two in the morning, local time. I hadn't gotten anything out of Asai, but I really hadn't expected to. She also hadn't tried to lift the data chip off of me, which didn't mean anything as far as canceling her out as a suspect, but if she'd tried to steal it I would at least have an idea as to what was going on inside her head. At that point in the night, I just wanted to get back to the Bachelor Enlisted Quarters and my bed.   
  
I should have known that nothing is ever that easy. I never even saw the blow coming; I was down on the ground before I knew what hit me, and while the subsequent hits weren't aimed at the back of my head like the first, they were hard enough to give me some memories I wish I had missed out on. They patted me down quick and removed the blaster from its holster, but they didn't get the chip. I had managed to have the presence of mind to palm the thing even as I was falling to the ground half conscious. I guess instinct really does die hard.  
  
The guys working me over were professionals, and they took pride in their work. But this wasn't just a simple beating: if it hadn't had a message it would have felt like a waste of an artist. One of the goons, probably the artist who had been working on me, leaned down and whispered to me, "The boss wants to see you. He don't appreciate you meddlin' in his affairs, and he don't like you beatin' up on his patrons. That's what the beatin' was for. But he thinks you can help him. So clean up and meet him back at the Starlight in an hour." I heard my blaster clatter to the ground next to me; at least they'd had the decency to let me keep it. I reached over and checked it: sure enough, its power pack had been removed, but it was still in pretty good shape as far as I could tell.  
  
I was impressed. I had danced with Jivasi's niece, and beaten up one of his patrons, and I wasn't dead or unconscious. I can't say I was pleased about the workover I'd been given, but after a long time as an investigator, you get used to the occasional beating. With any luck you're able to return the favor by the end of the case, and at least it's a non-fatal side effect of poking your nose in where it's not wanted. Plus, a beating normally means you're getting close to someone or something. I had a feeling that either my message had reached him, he knew who I was or he thought I knew something I shouldn't. Or all three at the same time. Either way, it would be an interesting meeting.   
  
An hour later I was back at the Starlight, cleaned up and a little more aware of my surroundings. I'd taken the goons advice and headed back to the base as I soon as I regained the feeling in my lower body. The guy hadn't actually broken any ribs, or anything else for that matter: he'd just hurt me in places that could repair quickly. That was the mark of a true professional, which impressed me: you didn't often see any truly competent goons out here in the Outer Rim territories. Some medical tape and some meds were all I needed, and I was as good as new, ready for an exciting night of criminal investigation. I had also managed to lose anyone who might be tailing me, and then proceed to stash the datachip somewhere safe. I would come back for it  
  
When I reached the entrance I found three of Jivasi's thugs there waiting for me, smoking cheap cigarras and talking casually. One of the goons, a large near human with blotchy skin and a mismatched suit, stepped up and smiled.   
  
"No hard feelin's, I hope, bloke. Our boss actually wants your help wit somethin', but he can't have you beatin' up whoever ya choose. Business and all," the goon explained.  
  
I just shrugged and grinned back ferociously, "Just try it when I'm looking next time, as a personal favor."  
  
He laughed deeply at that one, "Sure, whatever you say, bud. C'mon, the boss is waiting for yah."  
  
I followed obediently, flanked on either side by the other two goons. I reflected that at the very least, Jivasi was an equal opportunity employer: the thugs were both alien, one a Rodian and the other a stocky Devaronian. Going up against aliens that were naturally able to take more of a beating than a human would be tough if things came down to a fistfight, but I still had some tricks up my sleeve. I just hoped this would be a friendly meeting, and not involve any high levels of damage to my person.  
  
The club was still darkly lit, but without the thousands of beings and the music, the effect was entirely different from before: the place had gone from welcoming to foreboding in the hour I'd been away. I shook off the goosebumps running down my spine and followed the goons into a turbolift at the end of the backsection of the first floor. The lift descended rapidly, all the way past the 'bottom' floor into an underground area. I was glad to see that this section was actually well lit: I guessed these were the offices of the club, where live acts could rest between numbers, where accountants took care of bookkeeping, and where the vast amount of liquor needed in an establishment like this would be stored behind heavily locked doors.   
  
We arrived at what I assumed what was Jivasi's office after a number of turns through the seemingly endless complex. Either it takes a lot of office space to run a club, or Jivasi had something else going on down here, I thought. The goons motioned me in, said their goodbyes, and closed the door behind me as I entered. I took stock of my location immediately, and was a little surprised by what I saw, though I tried to contain the reaction.  
  
A man in a well cut business suit was sitting at the edge of a desk at the back of the room, while two women sat on a couch to the right of the desk, closer to me. The man had his hair cropped short, military style, and carried himself with that straight backed precision you get from a couple years in the Imperial Army. One look pegged him as Jivasi, if my instincts were still remotely intact after that hit to the head. Of the two girls, one was a human of about twenty-two with a well-maintained mane of green hair, bluish green eyes and a fair complexion that spoke of too much time inside. From what I could tell, she looked like a core-worlder. Her dress wasn't elaborate, just red formalwear, but it suited her. The other was more familiar: Melina Darksun, the club's resident songstress. She was as beautiful as ever, and it took a reasonable effort to keep scanning the room instead of just staring at her. The fourth occupant of the room, not counting me, was a Givin in a business suit that would have probably looked more reasonable if it had been on a human. The alien carried itself with an air of elegance that kept the suit from looking utterly silly, though. It did explain why most Givins I had met over the years preferred jumpsuits if they had to wear human style clothes at all. Somehow, you just can't pull of a suit as well when you look like a freeze-dried corpse, as all Givin do.  
  
Everyone in the room looked a little unhappy for one reason or another, so I figured it was up to me to break the ice. "I was impressed with the hired muscle. I've never met any goons that were quite as polite as those guys. And that one near human was pretty slick with his blackjack; I barely heard him coming, and by the time I figured it out it was too late." I commented, smiling slightly.  
  
The man I guessed was Jivasi chuckled, "Ah, you mean Garis. He's very good at what he does. As for their manners, I try to inculcate some sense of discipline in my employees, even if their natures might tend towards rejecting it."  
  
"So, are you this Jivasi I've heard so much about?" I asked.  
  
"Yes," he replied in cultured tones, "And are you the Starfighter Command agent I've been hearing about?"  
  
I smiled broadly, "No use in denying it; never was one for undercover, anyhow. Yeah, I'm with SCOSI. Investigating the death of one of our guys."  
  
"I assumed that the death of one of your own would send you flocking down like mynocks. I have never understood the mind of a murderer who thinks that killing a member of a massive organization will discourage the rest of that organization from looking into his or her business."  
  
"Is that your roundabout way of telling me you're innocent?" I asked.  
  
He laughed, a hearty, aristocratic laugh, then answered, "Yes, Sergeant, it is. In fact, I brought you here to ask a favor of you."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, beating someone up wasn't a very good way of convincing him to help you."  
  
A laugh came from the side of the room. The green haired girl had thought that was exceptionally amusing. Melina was less than interested, and busied herself with pouring a glass of Mon Calamari champagne from a bottle by the couch.  
  
"Well, I couldn't very well have you beat up my patrons without my permission. Of course, I'm willing to give you that permission if you agree to help me."  
  
"Only if we're not working at crosspurposes, Jivasi. If you actually want me to work for you, you have to think I'm not an idiot. And if I'm not an idiot, I would notice that accent of yours, and the way you move, and I would wonder if our goals might be mutually exclusive."  
  
Jivasi's slight smile of superiority became a grin of actual amusement. He seemed to actually have to resist the urge to clap. "Impressive, Sergeant! Though I suppose I do wear my former affiliations on my sleeve, so to speak. You don't have to worry about that: I left the Imperial service behind when the Emperor died. Without him, there isn't an Empire anymore. Oh, and am I addressing you correctly? Are you actually a sergeant?"  
  
I smiled back, "Yeah, I'm a sergeant. Investigations are the job of us enlisted guys; the officers get to do all the really fun stuff like data sifting. And assuming you're not lying through your teeth, what kind of favor would you like done?"  
  
"Find out who's trying to frame me. I run a clean business, even if my patrons aren't clean. Someone is stealing equipment from your New Republic, someone close to me, and that someone also killed your man. And whoever it is, they seem to be doing a pretty good job of tying it all to me."  
  
"Think your niece is part of it?" I asked.  
  
"Asai? Why do you ask?"  
  
"She seemed to be pretty eager to let me know that you're a criminal. Hell, that spice seller was more interested in protecting your good name than Asai was."  
  
"Interesting. I was wondering why she was spending so much time with you. I assumed it was just because you were a soldier; she seems to love soldiers, for one reason or another. She might have her own reasons, but I doubt she's in charge of anything. She's got a mind, and she's vicious, but she doesn't have the resources."  
  
I cocked an eyebrow, "And if she somehow found the resources?"  
  
"I wouldn't put it past her. After the accident killed my brother and sister-in-law, I've tried to provide her the same love that her father showed her, but she is her mother's child through and through."  
  
That comment interested me. I resolved to check it out, once I got out of here. Until then, I decided to turn the conversation in another direction: I needed to know more about the people involved in the operation.  
  
"So, am I going to be introduced to your friends here, or are they just around for window dressing?" I asked.  
  
Jivasi smiled slightly, "Ah, of course, where are my manners, sergeant? I'm just a little on-edge; the last thing I need is a fullscale New Republic operation coming in to my little piece of this planet."  
  
"I can understand; I didn't think I'd be apologizing to a guy who ordered me roughed up, but if I'd known you would be this cooperative, I would have come to you at the start. Though you can understand my hesitance. Hell, for all I know, you could be playing me right now."  
  
"Of course I understand, Sergeant. Anyhow, this is Ilsanan, my chief accountant," he motioned to the Givin, "We were just going over the books before you came in; he was informing me of some very interesting developments. And these two lovely ladies are Firasa Mosabi and Melina Darksun; Firasa is my fiancée, while Melina is my breadwinner. We were all talking about what exactly has been going on over the past few months, and what was most important to tell you."  
  
Of course, that also meant they were deciding what was important not to tell me. I needed to get Melina by herself: I had a feeling that she was the one person in the room I could actually trust. It's not as good as the Force, but over the years I've gotten to trust my gut instincts above everything else. Hell, it's part of why my callsign is Mage; it even got to the point where Skywalker dropped by to see if I had any force potential. Of course, I didn't, but it was flattering. I grinned to them, "Nice to meet you all; you can all call me Mage."  
  
Melina sighed, "Charmed, I'm sure."  
  
The one trustworthy person or not, she could have at least been a little more hospitable, especially after the performance in the club.  
  
Firasa, the green haired core worlder, giggled slightly, "Did your parents want you to be a Jedi or something?"  
  
I shook my head slightly, "Nah, it's my callsign. Picked it up during the war for a variety of reasons too boring to go into here."  
  
Jivasi smiled, "You know, I could find out your name pretty rapidly, Sergeant. There aren't too many investigators in SCOSI, and I'm sure your callsign would speed matters up."  
  
"I'm sure it would, Jivasi; but you've got to ask yourself, is it worth the time or effort? You don't really need to know my real name, and I prefer not to throw it around."  
  
"Fair enough. So, how can we help you?"  
  
"Well, first I'll impose by taking a seat," I began, pulling a chair away from the left wall, to a more central position facing the people in the room, "And then you can start by answering a few questions..."   
  
---------  
  
The question and answer session took us until six in the morning, way past my bedtime. We had covered quite a bit of ground, and I had some starting points now, which was better than I had before. Still, I could tell everyone else in the room was tired as well, and since I don't exactly do my best work when I'm exhausted, I suggested that I come back another time to finish up. Jivasi agreed with that assessment, shook hands with me, and headed out with his fiancée. The Givin accountant bowed solemnly, then also exited. Only Melina stayed behind, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth.  
  
"Enjoy the performance?" she asked breathily. I wondered if she tossed the sex appeal into everything she said on purpose, or if it was just natural. If it was natural, I envied her schoolmates back in secondary school.  
  
"Performance? Shouldn't you have pretended we were long lost lovers or something? That bit in the club would make a little more sense then...," I suggested.  
  
She laughed, for the first time that night; it was perfectly melodic. I wanted to hear it again, but decided against asking. It probably wouldn't have been tactful. "You would have loved that, wouldn't you, Mage?" she asked, suddenly acting as if we were old friends, "But my explanation for the song was a little more believable, because it was true. I told him you reminded me of someone I knew back before the Emperor died, a Rebel fighter pilot."  
  
"Boyfriend?"  
  
"Something like that... but I was wondering what happened to the chip. I think Jivasi might be hiding something, but he's telling the truth more than he's lying: that chip has enough information to give you a better idea of what's going on here than just asking questions."  
  
"Like a correlation between the petty thieves, the real thieves, and this place?" I asked.  
"It suggests some things, but you might be able to get more out of it than I could. I think Kian was able to figure things out without the chip... and that's why he's dead."  
  
"I think that beating I got was more than just payback for my discretions tonight; I someone wanted that chip, and that thug was supposed to find it. He went over me pretty well, but I was able to palm it before he could get his grubby paws on me."  
  
Melina's eyes widened slightly, "You don't think Jivasi ordered him, do you?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know anything right now; I'm alone, and I'm a little confused. You know anyone else who might want that chip, and could hire that goon away from Jivasi?"  
  
"I could guess... but I know you don't want a guess. I'll look around some more, and let you know what I find the next time I see you."  
  
"Great. Well, I better get going, or Jivasi will think that you can stand my presence."  
  
I took her hand in mine to shake it, but for some reason my mind reacted a little strangely to its warmth. I'm not sure if it was a misfiring neuron or something, but I gave her hand a light tug, pulling her towards me. Now, I'm not saying anything, but if she had resisted even a little, the tug wouldn't have done anything. Regardless of that, my lips were on hers before either of us had time to think. A moment after, she'd pulled away from me and her hand had made contact with my face in a hard slap. I mumbled some apology, and left. Hopefully, that incident wouldn't screw up my one reliable source, but I would be the only one to blame if it did. It was just hard not to fall in love with that girl. At least I knew now what about Melina Darksun had affected Sergeant Kian.   
  
I followed the goon named Garis and his lackeys through the club and back to the exit. Garis looked like he wasn't all that happy about all the time I'd been spending with his boss; I guess he had figured that the only conversation I was going to have was with a blaster bold and whatever deity I might worship. I hated to disappoint the guy, but I was glad I was still alive. Once we reached the club's exit, I decided to make it up to Garis by introducing him to an old friend of mine, called a roll of Imperial creds. It's amazing what one good uppercut can do when you've got a roll of those things in your fist.   
  
His companions were a little too stunned to do anything about it. I stepped over his prostate form and smiled warmly to the two, "I wouldn't get any ideas about avenging your pal, guys; I don't think your boss would take kindly to it. We're on the same side now, and I have a license to liberally beat up his patrons and employees."  
  
They didn't have any kind of witty repartee for me, which proved my assumption that Garis was the only one in the group with any brains. As I walked away, dreaming of that bed at the BEQ, it occurred to me that over my years with Starfighter Command, only one thing had ever been more dangerous than an Imperial Star Destroyer: A thug with brains. After I got a few hours of sleep, it was time to do some checking up on Garis, as well as a few other inquiries.  
  
----------  
  
What I found on Garis had been a lot more interesting than I could have ever hoped: the guy didn't have a criminal record, but he did have a service record. Honorable discharge from New Republic Forces, a few months after the New Republic had been formed, a little less than a year after Endor. What was more, his record was with SpecOps, one of our branches that tended to promote criminal deeds rather than dissuade them. Shipjackers, demolitionists, nutcases and hardboiled gunmen, it was a diverse organization that really only had one thing tying it together, the desire to see our galaxy free. After the New Republic became an actual government, the NRI had deemed SpecOps to be a little bit too overzealous, and had given everyone a choice: retrain, and start behaving like a military organization, or take an honorable discharge. Most had stayed around, since they trusted General Cracken, head of NRI, to still let them have the benefit of the doubt as far as their unorthodox tactics went, but a few took the discharge. There was always the feeling that those had been the less honorable amongst SpecOps: the criminals who only joined up to stop the Empire, hoping to make a profit in the chaos after they collapsed. While Garis could very well have been a patriot, I had a feeling otherwise.   
  
That meant that I had someone with contacts in the New Republic, but I had a feeling I wouldn't have a chance of directly connecting him to the crimes. I would have to follow whoever was doing his legwork to him, and then him to his backers. The chip I had gotten from Melina was going a long way towards doing that. It was a detailed list of military equipment sales on the black market, and traced far enough back, came to the various fleet groups working in the Ulos Sector. In another section of the data on the chip were the leaves of officers and enlisted men who were under suspicion for grand theft larceny. They had all been on Miathar'ra at one point or another, but it didn't seem concrete enough to charge them for anything.   
  
I had to figure out what the pattern here was. It seemed like the base at Miathar'ra hadn't been affected by any of the thefts: I was sure the criminals were based here, and somehow had managed to convince a bunch of New Republic soldiers to steal quite a bit of equipment for them. The problem was that the thefts in the fleet groups that stopped at Miathar'ra for supplies couldn't really be correlated to their stop here. They all took place months after they'd moved on to other ports on the other end of the sector.  
  
That's when it occurred to me: they all took place exactly three months after the fleet groups had moved on to other ports at the other end of the sector. Someone figured on correlation between Miathar'ra and the thefts, but had been a little too lazy to figure out a more randomly generated theft time. Sounded like the usual SpecOps nonsense. Those guys had never been too hot as far as long term projects went.   
  
My discovery wasn't exceptionally important, though, no matter how good it made me feel. All it did was confirm my suspicions, that this was a ring, and not just a series of random thefts. It also lent credence to the investigations of the officers and enlisted men on the chip. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, I jogged over to the holonet transceiver on the base to send the contents of the chip, and a message, to Major Treyers back on Coruscant. The information on the chip would be more than enough to put the men on the list under arrest, and hopefully somebody would crack and give up some information. I didn't want to wait that long, however: if the masterminds behind this ring of thefts got wind of all the arrests, they would be off planet like a cool breeze before we even had a chance to call up the local constabulary to arrest them. So before sending off the data, I put in a message to Treyers: 'Hold off on the arrests for at least three days. That's more than I need to wrap up the case down here." Treyers had known me for a while: he would give me the three days. I just had to make them worthwhile.  
  
It struck me that I hadn't paid nearly enough attention to Jivasi's niece. I had done some digging after Jivasi had dropped that hint during our conversation, and had come up with some interesting tidbits, but nothing really concrete. What there didn't necessarily paint a clear picture, but it was enough to give me some hints as to what Jivasi had been talking about when he mentioned Asai's mother. It turned out that both of Asai's parents had died in an explosion about eight years before, and that the investigation pointed strongly towards Asai's mother as the cause of the explosion. Like I said, nothing concrete, but I'd seen less solid cases stand up in court. If Asai had inherited some kind of family tradition of malice... I chuckled at myself. It sounded way too melodramatic, even to me. It was time to stop speculating and start doing some footwork.   
  
I dropped by the BEQ and changed into a light pair of multi-pocketed trousers, an undershirt, a light overshirt and my favorite hat, an understated white fedora that does a pretty good job of keeping the sun out of my eyes. It was getting to be night, but I preferred to have it around anyhow. As usual, my blaster was nestled under my left armpit in the custom fitted shoulder holster. I'd learned long ago never to go off on a business related encounter without her. I also brought a small compact case that fit neatly in one of my trouser pockets, a case carrying a few of OSI's more interesting gadgets.  
  
It only took a short cab right to get me to Asai's place, an apartment complex in the upscale district of Miathar'ra's capital city. I buzzed for her room, the number of which I'd gotten from Jivasi the night before. I figured it would come in handy for one reason or another. Asai's voice came on the intercom, "Oh, you; what do you want?"  
  
"Just want to ask you a few questions, Ms. Ensmith."  
  
"Ms. Ensmith? That's awfully formal. Come on up, Garington."  
  
I was pretty impressed once I made it into her apartment; the place was high quality, spacious, with plenty of cushy furnishings. The holoprojector in the living room was top of the line, the sound system some Mon Calamari construct that projects everywhere at once with perfect clarity: all the toys of the typical debutante, but nice nonetheless.  
  
"So, like the place, Garington?"  
  
"Sure, it's beautiful. If you're ever free from dancing we can get hitched and I can move in. I think I know just where I can put my favorite recliner."  
  
"If you moved in, your favorite recliner would be staying behind, soldier-boy. It took me months to get this place just right."  
  
"It looks that way; I need to get you to come to Coruscant and fix up my place."  
  
She raised her eyebrows at that, "You can afford a place a Coruscant?"  
  
"The New Republic helps pay for costs of living, depending on where you're stationed. Since your uncle obviously hasn't told you, I might as well: I'm an OSI investigator working down here, and my name isn't Garrington," I explained, flashing my badge.  
  
"You seemed a little too tall, dark and mysterious to be a normal technician; so, what is your name, soldier-boy?"  
  
"You can call me Mage. So, you up to answering a couple of questions? Or do I have to seduce you or something?"  
  
"Oh, you can seduce me anytime you want, Mage. But I'll settle for the questions for now."  
  
I grinned widely and started in. She was good. She was very, very good. Either she didn't know anything, she knew something and was hiding it very well, or she was an ancient Sith Lord running the Empire from her well-furnished apartment. The point is, she was good enough that I couldn't have told you which, even if I had found a lightsaber and a suit of dark armor in her closet. I have a feeling she would have even have had an answer in that eventuality.   
  
It wasn't that she had all the answers, or that she evaded the questions well. She somehow managed to evade without evading: she answered the wrong questions, and didn't know the answers to the right ones. She guessed at the wrong times, and gave her concrete assertions when she wasn't really sure about something. In other words, she acted like every other witness in the history of the universe, not like a woman with something to hide. I was getting nowhere fast when I moved to pull my trump. I started with a simple question, a leader.  
  
"So, what do you think about your uncle, really? You think he's a criminal?"  
  
Her eyes grew a little colder, but she still had an answer, "He has to be a criminal; noone is able to build a club like that after a career in the Empire."  
  
"Maybe he's just very good at getting wealthy investors," I suggested.  
  
"Yeah, right. He's committed crimes before, I know it, and I know that he'd be willing to do it again."  
  
I went for the trump.  
  
"You think he killed your mother and father, don't you?"  
  
For the first time she was taken aback. "How... yes. Yes I do."  
  
"Is that why you're helping Garis? You think he's going to ruin your uncle, thus fulfilling justice? Maybe he even has evidence of your uncle's involvement in the crime, evidence you'll get after you finish helping him?"  
  
She was silent. She just stared at me, hate welling up in her eyes.  
  
I continued. "Except that you'll never finish helping him, and he'll never produce that evidence. But you'll keep waiting, hoping, clinging to that dream that it wasn't your mother who caused that explosion. Why not blame it on the guy who's been raising you for the past eight years? Makes sense to me."  
  
Her reply was quiet at first. I knew it wouldn't last, but I needed to keep going, until she was really mad. I couldn't stop. "Get out," she said, her voice a quiet rasp.  
  
"What does he have you doing? Recruitment? Are you the one who finds the saps who steal ships and equipment for Garis's ring? Or have you found others to do that for you by now? Yeah, that's right, you're probably too smart to do the dirty work yourself, except once in a while, when you see a soldier-boy who looks like your type. What would have happened if I'd stayed inside my role? Would you have told you me some sob story about your uncle, and convinced me that stealing for you was the only way to release you from bondage or something?"  
  
This time it was a scream, coupled with a slap across my face. "GET OUT!"   
Her palm burned, but I didn't let it faze me. I probably deserved it. Still, this was necessary. I needed to force a confrontation with Garis, and this was the only way I could think of going about it. So I just grinned, turned and left.   
  
As I left, I pulled the case from inside my trouser pocket. I flicked it open, pulled out a device the size of an insect, and tossed the device onto the wall facing Asai's door. It immediately blended in with the wall's coloring, rendering it almost invisible. The device would alert me as soon as Asai's communications unit was activated and send me the signal wavelength, giving me a chance to tap in on the other side of the conversation, provided I was near enough to the other conversation to grab it with a broadband comm. scanner. I love the stuff that the NRI comes up with, especially when they finally let us OSI slobs borrow it. I knew she would expect me to wait around for her to leave so that I could tail her to wherever she met Garis, so I didn't. I left.   
  
Instead of focusing on my bait, I hopped a cab and went straight to the club to check on my prey. The cabbie was good: we were there in less than five minutes, which gave me at least another five minutes before Asai called her contact. She seemed like the cautious type, and would probably be checking for any bugs I might have left in her apartment. That was why the only kind of bug I had left was outside of her apartment. I was just betting that she wouldn't think our technology was good enough for that.   
  
The area outside the club was nearly empty right now, which was fine by me, but I moved into an alleyway just in case, to keep out of sight and out of mind. I flicked a broadband listening device out of the compact case and activated it, tuning it in for local communications channels. Then the beeping came, alerting me that Asai was making the call. The device began doing it's work immediately, honing in on the exact bandwith of the comm. call. It only took ten seconds, and then I had what I wanted. Kind of. Almost.  
I heard Asai's voice first, which at least let me know I was on the right channel, and that I was on the right track.  
  
"He knows way too much. But he still doesn't know who's running things," Asai's pretty, tortured little voice claimed.  
  
The other voice replied, "I already have Garis working on it. He'll take care of that New Republic agent first, while I eliminate Jivasi's fiancée. The frameup should take care of Jivasi and the rest of his crew." I was surprised by that one: this voice was speaking as if Garis was a subordinate. That meant that someone else was in charge here, that I had picked the wrong guy as the head honcho.   
  
I would have liked to listen to the rest of the conversation, really I would have. Maybe I would have even have picked up on who the boss was. But that decision was taken away from me when I heard those all too quiet steps behind me. I was halfway turned around with my blaster out of the holster when the first blow came, slamming into my gun arm. My blaster went skittering across the pavement, about six meters away from both of us. The good news was that if I hadn't been moving, I would have taken that blow to the head, and I wouldn't have survived the encounter. I was just lucky that this guy preferred to work in close.   
  
"That trick only works once, Garis," I taunted, grinning, trying to get the feeling back into my right arm.   
  
"I can break you fine face to face, Mage," he replied, tossing the blackjack aside and cracking his knuckles in anticipation.  
  
I knew that he probably could do exactly what he said, and I didn't feel like risking it. I dived for my gun, sliding across the slick pavement towards her. Garis reached into his jacket, going for his own blaster, intent on hitting me before I even got close to my weapon.   
  
I got there first. Now the blaster was in my left hand, and I was rolling to the right just as he fired. His blast missed me my inches, and I knew his second shot wouldn't be so inaccurate. So I didn't give him a chance. The second I could orient on him, I fired, sending a blast of red energy into him. The blast caught him full in the chest, causing him to drop his own weapon and stumble backwards. Finally, he collapsed against the alley wall, dead.   
  
Things were starting to come together, albeit chaotically: the rats had started to abandon the ship. I had a feeling that Jivasi's fiancée didn't have much longer on this world if I didn't get there fast, and I knew that whoever was in charge wouldn't show up if a bunch of cops got there first. That meant I couldn't call in the local constabulary to protect her before I got there, and that I'd have to risk Firasa's life if I was going to collar the being running things. I got moving at a dead run, heading out of the alley and towards Firasa's place. I knew her apartment was close, thanks to Jivasi; he had given me the addresses of all the people close to him. I could be there in less than four minutes if I hurried.   
  
When I arrived, I found the apartment complex's door had been opened with an electronic lockpick. If it followed regular operating procedures, the system would relock five minutes after it had been unlocked by illegal methods. I tried opening the door, hoping the lock hadn't slammed down yet: at that moment I assumed the Force was with me, because it slid open easily. That meant I was right on time, if only to catch whoever was running this business. I rushed up the stairs to Firasa's room, my blaster out, when I suddenly stopped to think. Mindless heroics aside, this was too easy: no criminal with any brains leaves a door unlocked behind them, even if they're in a hurry, and even if they know it will eventually reset itself. That's an amateur mistake, and these weren't amateurs. No, they would know NRI and OSI standard operating procedure, because Garis would have explained it to them. Garis hadn't happened upon me in that alley on accident: he knew what my first move would be after leaving Asai's place.   
  
They knew I would be listening in on that conversation, and they knew I would come rushing to save Firasa without any backup, because my own conceit would place capturing the mastermind above saving the woman's life. So I made a com call to the local constabulary, and I went about falling into the trap. There were most likely either two or three blasters in the room... I guessed that Asai would be placed next to the door, to take me as I ran in. Firasa was either the mastermind, or an accomplice, and would have a weapon of her own. Then there was the possibility of a third, if Firasa wasn't the person running things. From my impressions of her, she didn't seem like the type to run an operation like this, but it was possible. She could have just been an extremely good actress.  
  
So I did what they expected me to do. I ran through the open door of Firasa's apartment, running to the distressed Firasa who just happened to be in plain sight, lying on the living room floor battered and bruised.   
  
"Thank god you're here, Sergeant!" she gasped. She wasn't a very good actress: that meant there were three blasters.  
  
I then stopped doing what they expected. I slammed my blaster down hard against Firasa's head, knocking her unconscious. A stream of superheated plasma streaked past me, burning a hole in Firasa's upholstery, and alerting me as to Asai's exactly location. With a twist and a drop to my knees, I turned and fired a stun blast into the place where the blast had come from. Asai had been exactly where I expected her to be: the good thing about professionals is that they're predictable. They always use the same gimmicks. The girl dropped to the floor without another word, the stun bolt overpowering her.  
  
"Alright," I called to the apartment in general, "Come on out, and drop your weapons. The locals are on their way. I know you can hear those sirens."  
  
Sure enough, the distant wail of sirens proclaimed that the cavalry was coming, though whether that would be fast enough was an open question.   
  
At the very least, my call produced the third party, the Givin accountant. It was pretty much obvious that Jivasi hadn't been running human relations for the Imperial Navy: he wasn't exactly a good judge of character. His niece, bodyguard, fiancée and accountant were all running a criminal operation under his nose, using money from his bank accounts, and generally framing him for various crimes. Actually, now that I think about it, Jivasi was probably the HR Chief for the entire Empire. At least his lead singer wasn't a criminal.   
  
The problem was that he had Melina with him, and he had his blaster pointed at me.  
  
"Very good, Sergeant," the Givin complimented, "But I think I can kill you before your stun shot affects both the girl and me."  
  
"How do I even know she's not working for you?"  
  
"I'm not stupid: would I have ordered someone working for me to contact the New Republic's investigation arms?"  
  
"Who knows? I've always been under the impression that criminals were stupid. You know you're not getting out of here; just give up."  
  
"The mathematical probability of my escape is less than .0000000002 percent: this is true. But what about who is actually running this entire operation? I can give the New Republic a crime lord who runs several dozen sectors, which should be more than enough to shorten my prison term considerably. I'd say my chances for a short fifty-year sentence are about 89.9999999999999 percent favorable. Givin live a very long time, Sergeant. I can wait. So, you can drop your gun and let me escape, or I can kill you, get a considerable amount of satisfaction out of that, and then serve a minimum amount of time in jail. Or you can try and kill me, hoping you don't hurt the girl. It's your choice."  
I choose. The blast caught him in the forehead, flinging him back into the living room. He did, however, get a chance to get a shot off, and his arm remained straight and steady even as his face was disintegrating.   
  
The energy bolt caught me in my gunarm, burning it badly and slamming me back against the wall. The sudden pain almost caused me to lose consciousness, but instead I just grew dizzy and fell to the floor. It took a few seconds to gain back enough energy to move, and my arm was throbbing in pain, but I could live. I forced myself to ignore the pain and pushed myself up. Support and medical attention were on their way. I had something more important to tend to: I rushed over to Melina, who was sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
"Are you alright?" I asked, offering her my good arm.   
  
"I... should be asking you that...," she got out between sobs, holding onto me tightly.  
  
"Yeah, probably, but I've been shot before. You don't exactly get used to it, but you learn to control the pain."  
  
"Thank you...," she managed to get out. Even scared out of her mind, that voice was just as lilting and beautiful. I knew it was going to be hard to go back to Coruscant.  
  
A few days later, as I was being debriefed in the med ward, they asked me why I didn't just let the Givin go. Givin, even criminals, are famous for holding up to their bargains, as the reputation for betrayal brings about an almost mathematical certainty of being betrayed. I could have let him go, saved the hostage, and saved myself considerable amounts of pain and mortal peril.   
  
I could only give them one answer: I stand alone. If I had let him go, I would have been destroying my entire creed, my entire belief system. I am a lone force for justice and order in this chaotic universe: with the New Republic still being formed, and the military still coping with the idea of being a military, and not a rebellion, there need to be people to take a stand against the chaos. If one breaks, if one lets down that wall for even a second, that chaos rushes across the borders and consumes the universe. So I could only tell them that I stand alone against the chaos, and that if I fall in any way, so does the New Republic. It's as simple as that. 


End file.
